Rabbits
by Gutterbunny
Summary: What to say about this? Ginny and Draco have fun in the library - no, it's not smut.


Author's note: Well, I bet a lot of you are wondering what the hell this is, and the rest of you must be going, "No! No, you stupid bitch,, finish C+B before you start other shitty fics!" And I must say you're right, but I've got a rather bad case of writer's block when it comes to C+B. Please forgive me - the last chapter might be out before New Year's.  
  
Before I forget. thanks to everyone who helped with constructive criticism - and to the little bitch who complained that my characters are OOC: I know they are, and that doesn't necessarily make it a bad fic.  
  
BTW, is "gutterbunny" becoming an express ion? I've heard it a few times and am quite surprised..  
  
Oh, and don't ask where I got the title, please. I don't know where I got the title. I'm known for nonsensical titles, alright?.  
  
Schnoogles from the original Gutter Bunny.  
  
*  
  
It had been, so far, a very bad day for Draco Malfoy. And it was not supposed to be that way. It had started out wonderfully: sun shining, birds tweeting, immaculate clouds, and even a trio of fluffy kittens playing in the long grass next to Hagrid's hut. And he had bruised seven egos during breakfast.  
  
But then it had all gone to hell.. For the simple reason that Draco hadn`t filled his quota of "private time" that day. Crabbe and Goyle, those blundering buffoons that hadn`t three brain cells between them, had not given him a moment alone all day, despite his repeated commands to "go feed yourselves to the giant squid, you fat-arsed imbeciles." The bulge in the crotch of his hands got steadily bigger throughout the day, and since a Malfoy was far above touching himself in public (except during orgies and certain Death Eater meetings) there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation.  
  
  
  
There he was, on a Friday night, in the library - the shame! When everyone else was off in Hogsmeade having a good time in the various, well-hidden clubs, Draco Malfoy, playboy extraordinaire, was in the school library, feeling impossibly horny, holding a book that weighed as much as four house- elves on his lap. He felt pathetic beyond words. What would father do? - but that was a pointless question as his father would never be in this sort of situation in the first place.  
  
  
  
There were two only Hufflepuff girls in the library, apart from himself and Madam Pince.  
  
Think. Think. Take your mind off of this mess, and do not under any circumstances let your mind wander to the back-issues of Wizards and their Vibrating Broomsticks just waiting for you in the restricted section.  
  
But the thought of Wizards and their Vibrating Broomsticks was too much to bear, a dangling carrot in his face, taunting him without mercy. Draco was on the point of leaping off his chair to make a mad dash towards the restricted bookshelves - but a voice, familiar and loud, stopped him.  
  
"Disgusting behaviour -" "how could you -" "what on earth were you doing there -" "disgrace to the good name of the school -". McGonagall sounded as though she would disintegrate with fury. Draco could see her in his mind's eye as though she was in front of him: cheeks crimson, eyes blazing, greying hair in disarray, gripping a wrongdoer by the arm and leaving half- moon marks in his or her skin. He chuckled and pricked up his ears.  
  
"Oww - let go of meeeee -" A squeal like a pig stuck under a gate.  
  
"I shall take you to the library, Miss Weasley, and you shall stay there until ten o'clock when I'll come to get you."  
  
Weasley? It all made sense, then. With only one brother in school with her, a brother too busy with himself and his relationships to check up on her regularly, Ginny had decided to do some serious partying, perhaps to make up for all the years that Percy spent breathing down her neck. She didn't seem to give a damn how many owls were sent to her parents; friendly advice to 'cool it down' went unheeded. Every Hogsmeade weekend she spent in a club, and she was always with a mysterious Prince Charming that seemed to vanish into thin air the next week. In short, she was a slut, and no Malfoy would touch her with ten-foot tongs.  
  
The footsteps were getting louder and louder. McGonagall and Ginny were at the library door. The Head of House had a death grip on Ginny's upper arm, and Ginny was cursing like a sailor and struggling to free herself.  
  
Madam Pince didn't look up, but Draco did, with interest. Ginny's fire- engine-red lipstick was smudged, and her hair (which she had cut right under her chin and dyed the same colour as the lipstick, perhaps to be sure to get noticed) was windblown and mussed up. In her dark jeans and leather sandals, she was two inches taller than McGonagall, who seemed aware of this fact even in her anger.  
  
"Hortense," McGonagall said tensely, "watch this girl. Make sure she doesn't. escape." She spoke as though Ginny was a convict placed in a minimum-security prison cell. Then, after a few dark glares in the young girl's direction, she spun on her heels and almost trotted out of the room.  
  
  
  
When she had gone, Ginny stuck her head out into the hall, waved her middle finger, and shrieked, "Just because you're gonna die a virgin doesn't mean you have to try and make the same thing happen to me!"  
  
Even Madam Pince deemed that comment worthy of an upwards glance. The two Hufflepuff girls, who had been studying diligently up until that point, looked scandalized. Ginny, pparently unaware of the confession she had accidentally made, looked around the room and spotted Draco.  
  
"Oh, shit," muttered the Slytherin.  
  
Within a few seconds Ginny had bounded across the room and seated herself across the table from him.  
  
"Hi, Malfoy."  
  
"You could have just gone, you know," Draco pointed out. "You think Pince cared whether you leave or not?"  
  
"Eh." Ginny shrugged. "Where could I go? The Gryffindor common room is even duller than this place on a Friday night."  
  
Half a minute of loaded silence. Then Draco - she might take my mind off my crotch - said, "What did you do to get old McGonagall so riled up?"  
  
"Eh," said Ginny again. "Uptight old bat. I bet she thinks we're still in the sixteenth century." She sneered, and Draco nearly laughed at the sight. There had never been a Weasley capable of sneering properly. The Malfoys, on the other hand. "She apparates in the club I was at - the Cauldron - they had a really cool band playing... I forgot what they're called."  
  
Draco was torn between annoyance, disgust and admiration. "The Cauldron? But they don't let anyone under twenty-one in." (Although he himself had fooled the bouncers at that club many times, he couldn't quite fathom the same being achieved by Ginny.)  
  
Ginny made a horse-like snorting noise.  
  
"I know I'm fifteen, and you know I'm fifteen, but do I look it?"  
  
Draco thought it wouldn't be tactful to mention the fact that she looked like a prostitute - although he privately wondered how many times she'd been offered money, hanging out in the streets dressed like that - so he merely shook his head. Ginny continued her woeful tale. "Anyway, she sees me making out with this really hot guy- I think he was around twenty-five - and she just freaks out. She was wearing a tartan cloak, too. No dress sense at all."  
  
"Well, that's true," said Draco, wincing. Tartan was high on his list of fashion sins, along with plaid socks and baggy pants - the tighter they were, the less was left to the imagination.  
  
"I really think she made a mountain out of a molehill, though, don't you?" asked Ginny, casting a bored look around the room. The no-one-knew-how-old librarian was magically gluing leather covers back onto old books. The Hufflepuffs were knee-deep in Potions manuals. No one was paying the slightest attention to their conversation. This seemed to satisfy Ginny, who added, "It's my own business what I do in my spare time - and who I do it with."  
  
"Well, that's true," said Draco again. He pressed firmly down on the book on his lap, lest it suddenly rise off and make Draco's condition obvious to all.  
  
"Gee, I'm bored," said Ginny. She stifled a yawn. "Hey, Malfoy, wanna go at it like rabbits behind those bookshelves over there?"  
  
After the initial shock of receiving such a proposition from little Ginny Weasley - who had grown up very fast indeed, and had eyes like shotguns - Draco stopped to consider. He was feeling particularly horny, to the point where it seemed to him that Professor Flitwick had a nice ass; and Ginny was offering to get him out of that predicament, without bothering him with prices. Quite friendly of her, actually. Oh, and she was liable to tell whoever she met that Draco Malfoy wasn't getting any, which would tarnish his reputation, and if his father ever got wind of that -  
  
"Well, okay," he said with a shrug.  
  
With a little squeal of joy, Ginny leaped out of her chair and grabbed him by the hand, and within seconds she'd dragged him behind the said bookshelves. There was a slightly alarming predatory look in her eyes, and her hand was gripping his arm rather hard, her long plastic nails digging deep half-moon marks in his skin.  
  
Draco began to feel creeped out. When Ginny gave him a little smile, he only saw how sharp her teeth looked. It was ridiculous to be frightened of this - this girl, this facsimile of humanity - but he was; he was frightened by her because he couldn't understand her. She disturbed him, her and her blood-coloured lips, her brown eyes riddled with minute veins that showed she hadn't slept much the previous nights, her necklace of pearl beads around her lovebitten neck. What was wrong with her?  
  
She wasn't a very good kisser, either. Her tongue probed his mouth and gave him the feeling that he was at the dentist's. If he closed his eyes he saw his mother looking at him reproachfully - "How. Could. You. Do. That. With. A. Weasley?!" - but if he kept them open he saw Ginny, which was far worse. All of a sudden he felt sick.  
  
"Get off," he said firmly, the words drifting off into Ginny's palate. His weak, half-assed attempt to push her off proved unfruitful, because she just wouldn't budge. He tried to say "get off" again, more loudly this time, but Ginny's tongue made a movement down his throat and stopped the sentence from getting out of there. Just as he was about to lose his supper somewhere inside of her, he remembered the wand in his pocket - the one made of wood, and that he could cast spells with. He groped for it blindly, and then gasped loudly because he wasn't the only one groping anymore.  
  
His fingers closed in around the thin strip of oak. It felt warm to the touch.  
  
"Expelliarmus," he muttered hoarsely.  
  
The spell shot of out his wand. Quite unfortunately for them both, though, he'd missed his very mobile target by about a yard, and the spell hit he bookshelf in front of him instead.  
  
Draco at first didn't know what was happening, what was causing the amazingly loud noise. Then he realized that his spell had ricocheted off the golden cover of a magazine, and had hit the bookshelves full blast. Centuries-old spellbooks were flying in circles, and the air was soon thick with loose pages. It was like a paper snowstorn. Fifteen seconds after Draco had whispered the magic word, there was not a single book in its place. Even the parchments and spells that the two Hufflepuffs had been studying were floating around pell-mell, twirling dangerously close to the candelabras. Pages originating from more mischievous books twisted themselves into paper airplanes and targeted Madam Pince's drooping grey pompadour.  
  
"What the fuck?" asked Ginny in her high-pitched voice. "Dra? What's going on?"  
  
"Don't call me Dra," hissed Draco. Then he added, in a kinder tone, "I really don't know."  
  
Madam Pince's mouth, in her surprise, had assumed the shape of an egg. As leathor-bound tomes bounced off the walls and dropped pages that coated the floor in another layer of paper, she wrung her hands and made little whimpering noises. Then, as the last of the books fell out of their shelves and self-destructed, she clenched her fists and said, in an abnormally calm tone, "Malfoy. Weasley. I should have known it was a horrible idea to let you in here together." And she waved her wand nonchalantly.  
  
Oh, good, thought Draco, Madam Pince is going to use magic and make everything all right again. He gave a little sigh of relief, and ignored the little shrill voice that said, 'Yeah, but why's she letting you off so easy?'  
  
Seconds later he had his answer. The paper planes, the leather coves, the barely-bound together sheafs of paper - all propelled themselves with magical speed towards Ginny and him. By the time instinct kicked in and the began to run for the exit, a small but hard book that had miraculously stayed together beaned him in the side of the head. A paper airplane poked Ginny in the eye.  
  
Draco sprinted out of the library, followed by an army of thin but sharp paper. He heard a shrill squeal from inside the library.  
  
"Dammit, Weasley! Move!" he bellowed. Loud panting and footsteps told him that she had listened to him.  
  
But if they were looking for a quick escape, they unfortunately didn't find it. The books and paper planes and torn pages followed them, forcing Draco and Ginny to keep running. They were soon out of breath, and Draco had a rather painful stitch in both his sides, but he couldn't allow himself a second of rests. He had no clue as to the damage that a bunch of pieces of paper could cause, but the mental image of himself covered in raw, red paper cuts kept him going.  
  
Up a staircase, then another. Down a hallway. All this done almost without breathing. Nearly miraculous. Finally Draco couldn't take it anymore. He leaned against a wall and took a big wheezing breath, filling his lungs with precious oxygen. He put his hand on his chest to gauge the speed at which his heart was beating. His face was covered with sweat and glittery lip gloss - the latter had been on Ginny's mouth roughly ten minutes ago.  
  
"Oh. gods." wheezed Draco. Those were the only two words he was capable of saying for quite a while.  
  
"Well," said Ginny, smoothing her hair with her palms. "I must say, that was fun. We should really do that again sometime, Malfoy."  
  
When Draco incredulously looked up, she gave him a wink and blew him a kiss; then she began to walk towards the nearest staircase, briskly but taking care to wiggle her hips every now and then.  
  
It was the last that Draco saw of Ginny Weasley for a while. 


End file.
